4 a.m Insomnia Poem

lost in the never
never land of insomnia
a dark forest ravished by storms
where dreams go to perish

my mind hijacks my destiny
speaks in tongue
devours the silence
walks hunchbacked
like a gypsy tailor
pushing a garment cart

a sacrificial virgin
burns in volcano ash
a Tiajuana Jesus
nailed to a plastic cross
winks at the twelve wise men
making a return trip to the manger
after a shopping spree at Walmarts

a fortune teller
trades in her crystal ball
for a tarot card reading
the lone survivor of a shipwreck
floats aimlessly at sea
my love returns from
the bermuda triangle
in the disguise of a mermaid
the pope pleads for humility
god answers with lightning
jesus responds with thunder

a bee colony drips honey between
the legs of a dairy queena haunted house coughs up
an angry ghost drunk
on death

dante gives up his seat in hell
to Rosa Parks who recites
the lord’s prayer backwards
to a honky sheriff
in Selma, Alabama

Saint Peter empties purgatory
the FDA declares sleeping masks
a fraud
Van Gogh demands his ear back

a new born baby
is sacrfiiced at the Louve
a french Mistress closes her legs
in protest

the mirror mocks my image
twenty-plus years of sleeplessness
camp inside my skull
hot as volcano ash

satan recruits me
god makes no counter offer
a whisper of sleep camps
inside my eyeballs
I surrender with a whimper
drown in a series of Hail Marys
recited by sexy nuns
in see-through attire

For more on A.D Winans and his last post on Van Gogh’s Ear please see: In The Old Days